


A Face Overflowing With Eyes

by Robin_Songs



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: (in fact a lot more things to come come to think of it), (more characters to come), Angst, Gen, Not Beta Read, Peter Benjamin Parker Needs a Hug, inhuman peter benjamin parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Songs/pseuds/Robin_Songs
Summary: Noir was doomed to die alone, a twisted parody of a human being. He knew this. He accepted this.Why, then, has this fact begun to hurt so much more after meeting the others?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	1. Crumbling Walls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on the archive, so it's probably going to be a bit bad. That being said, please feel free to offer criticism. In fact, feel free to comment literally anything at all. Feedback is my lifeblood y'all  
> (also low key inspired by a lot of fics so sorry if it looks like a copy of other works)

Peter Benjamin Parker was dead.

He had been for quite a long time.

His body was no longer his, tugged by its strings like a puppet. A parasite had crept its way through his mind,his body, his very soul, and had torn away everything that had made him him. A mutilated husk was left in its wake.

Peter Benjamin Parker was dead. The Spider-Man remained.

He was fine with that fact. He had accepted that he could never be the man he once was. He had accepted each and every alteration the spider god had made to his body. Every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection, a stranger looked back at him, and he had accepted that- the fact that he would never be able to truly call the body he was stuck in his own. There were lots of things he had grown to accept. There was no time to wallow in self-pity when he was running for his life. He had no other choice but to force down any sign of weakness, any distraction from his goal, and if his emotions had happened to get shoved down as well, then so be it. He had to adapt. He had to survive.

And yet that, like many things, had all changed when he met the others.

He had landed in a strange new world, filled with the unknown. It was full of inventions he had never even heard of, machines he could never have even dreamed of had been brought to life before him. The air was clear, clean, and full of life. The new dimension he had stumbled into was bursting at the seams with life, with joy. He had never felt more out of place in his life, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the color.

God, the color.

The city was swathed in something indescribable, so foreign that he had been left reeling. Nothing ever seemed to be the exact tone, the exact shade as something else. It felt so profound, like an entire other layer was added to his existence. His eyes had been opened up to an unfathomable sight. It was so breathtaking; it was so bright.

His eyes burned.

He never wanted it to stop.

Yet he knew that it would have to eventually. He had known that he would have to leave everything behind, just like always. He tried to ignore the tears burning in his eyes when his suspicions had been proven correct. He felt the buzzing of his very molecules rejecting the alternate reality abate. He had grown so accustomed to it that he only noticed it once it was gone. He was left in the dim warehouse with a sense of emptiness.

He tried to pretend that the only thing he missed was the color.

He was never truly alone, never since that fateful spider bite, but he had never felt so close to it as he did at this very moment. Everything seemed so bleak, so dull. It was like he had gained an entire other sense, only to have it torn away.

How cruel.

How typical.

He groaned, rubbing at his leather mask. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull. The barrage of lights and sounds was overwhelming, but the bereft feeling that lay in its wake left him almost wishing for the headache.

He pulled off the mask, taking the first unobstructed breath he had in days. Comparing it to the almost painfully crisp air of the other dimension, though, it felt like anything but. Every part of his home dimension felt almost lacking compared to the astounding experiences of the past few days. It felt like he was missing something he had never even had to begin with. Almost like…

He lifted his hand to his face, gently brushing his fingertips over his coarse skin. His hand traveled upward, tracing the extra pairs of eyes that had used to cause him such distress. He pulled his hand away, staring at the sliver of skin exposed between his sleeve and his glove. He didn’t need to pull down his coat sleeves to know about the slits that produced his silk lay beneath. Everything about him was so jarring, like they were hastily added, with little thought as to how the additions would meld with his body. The worst thing was that saying that wouldn’t even be that far from the truth. The Spider God only really bothered to make sure its little tweaks were functional. It just barely let him live to fight another day, though it’d be pointless to try to pretend that its actions were for anything other than prolonging his suffering.

The coarse hairs that littered his body sensed things as minuscule as a soft breeze, leaving him overwhelmed by practically any contact at all. The venomous fangs placed inside his mouth made it difficult to speak, and tore at the inside of his mouth if he so much as moved his lips in the wrong way. His limbs moved at unnatural angles, leaving bone to scrape against bone in ways that should never be allowed. Everything about him was so haphazard, yet so carefully planned. Some days he wondered if this was all just to mess with him, if he was some toy to be discarded once whatever beings that be got bored of him. He was a freak, that much was true, but certainly not one of nature.

Whatever reason the Spider God had for making him this way ultimately changed nothing. He could never pretend to be normal, to be anything but some grotesque chimera. You’ll run from a monster whether it has some grand purpose or not. So much for his plans of saving up for college.

He- what had they called him? Noir? It was better than the Spider-Man, and there was no way he could still pretend to be anything resembling Peter- Noir ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it roughly. Tears threatened to fall from his already dewy eyes.

Why now did he have to think of this? He had been perfectly fine with his carefully constructed apathy- why did it all have to fall apart like this?

He curled up into himself, silent, convulsive sobs wracking his figure.

He wasn't fine.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations or no, Noir has a city to protect.  
> That doesn't mean that there aren't things to get sorted out first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't just now remember that Noir had the Rubik's cube. Not at all.
> 
> ... Anyways, the update schedule for this is probably going to be a bit sporadic, considering that I pretty much only work on this when I not only have the time and motivation to write, but also when I can manage to fight my executive dysfunction well enough, which is pretty much once in a blue moon. That being said, I'm still going to try my best to get chapters out relatively quickly, or notify y'all if I'm going to be taking a bit of a hiatus. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Noir lay there for hours, trembling on the cold warehouse floor. He almost wished that he could just waste away there, falling into the shadows for the very last time.

He knew he couldn't.

He knew there was work to do. There was always work to do.

He got up slowly, joints aching. Every part of him protested at the slightest of movement, but it was nothing new. He knew that whatever the Spider God did to his body took years off his lifespan, and the fact that he was already aching like an old man despite not even being twenty just further proved it. He groaned as he got up, stretching despite knowing that it wouldn't really do much. It had come to the point where nothing could entirely alleviate his pain. He didn't have any watch, nowhere near being able to afford one, but he could tell by the lightening of the gray sky that it was sunrise already. Damn, he was late. It was hard enough to operate stealthily in the night, but the lighter grays in contrast to his pitch black made things even trickier. That, and light sensitivity is only particularly useful when there's not much light to begin with. Noir suspected he was in for another day of close calls and migraines.

Noir desperately hoped that nothing had gone wrong in his absence.

With his luck he'd be better off hoping for a thousand dollars to land at his feet. 

Noir was starving, though that was nothing new. He hadn't had time to scavenge for any scraps the last couple days, and he hadn't eaten since he had first fell through the portal. The May of that universe had offered something to eat to him, but he couldn't bear to just take food like that. He knew that she probably needed it more than he did. That Aunt May was so reminiscent of his that it hurt. He'd never be able to see her accepting expression on the face of his own May, but something about seeing her so proud of her nephew made him desperately wish for some way that he could. 

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. His stomach felt like an empty pit, and while he knew that the Spider God wouldn't risk losing a plaything to something as simple as starvation, he knew from experience that fighting like this could not end well. He patted his pockets for any spare scraps he might have, feeling something... Square? He reached into his pocket, pulling out...

...oh.

All thoughts of eating left as soon as he pulled the colorful cube from his coat. How could he have forgotten about something so important? He’d been given a gift, the single thing that could bring any color into his bleak world, and he’d only now remembered it? God, he almost brought it out to patrol with him. He could have lost it and been none the wiser. He berated himself, before an even worse thought dawned on him. He couldn’t take the cube out on patrol, it was far too dangerous for that. Then what could he do with it?

He searched the barren warehouse, glad that it could at least work as some semblance of a base. He’d managed to hide supplies by stowing them away in old crates well enough, but the cube was far too precious for such a precarious solution. He grimaced, eyes scanning for something, anything to keep it safe.

His face relaxed with a relieved sigh, perfect. He had seen a particular section of the bricks near the ceiling where the mortar was weak, standing out in his memory from the time he’d tried to attach a web to it. His back still hurt from that. If he was lucky, though, there should be just enough room to stash the cube behind some of the loosened bricks. He carefully put the cube back in his pocket, climbing his way up to the loose section. He stuck one of his hands to the brick he knew was loosest, and pulled. It came out easily enough, but left him with a brick occupying his right hand. He was nowhere near adept enough at sticking to walls to only use his feet, but he also couldn’t really just set the brick down onto the floor. He managed to awkwardly web the brick to the wall, pausing to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

With his hand free, he went to work with digging a small space into the wall, eventually getting a spot big enough to fit the cube. He pulled it out of his pocket, placing it into the indent with care. It looked so stark against the perfect gray of the bricks, even the black and white parts having their own bit of saturation that made them stick out from the surrounding area. He wouldn’t know how to explain it if someone had found the cube in his possession. He barely could even comprehend the color himself, and he’d been to a dimension filled with it. He took one last look at the cube, wishing he could bring it along with him, that he would never have to part with it, but he knew he had to. It was for the greater good. It was always for the greater good.

He sighed, pulling his hand away, and unstuck the brick from the wall. He fit it in place with a shot of webbing, hiding the cube away from prying eyes.

He dropped to the floor, shooting a web strand at the ceiling to get to the floor safely. What had he been worried about, again? With impeccable timing, his stomach growled, an answer in and of itself. 

Ah.

As a very rare occurrence of luck shining down on him, Noir had happened to remember the placement of one of his supply stashes in him clambering to hide the cube. He walked over to one of the abandoned crates, prying off the lid as silently as possible. 

The stale bread probably wouldn't look much to many people, but to someone living on the streets it was practically a feast. Noir almost debated just taking a piece and going, but there was no way he was going to let anyone near what could be the most food he would have in weeks. He sat on the cold floor, broken off bit of bread in his hands, and decided that the city could wait just a bit longer.


End file.
